


information request: processing

by SunsetOfDoom



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Body Horror, Brainwashing, Chipped Entrapta, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Just General Creepy Cult Shit, Mind Control, Pining, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, This Is Depressing And It Is Going To Get Worse Before It Gets Better, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunsetOfDoom/pseuds/SunsetOfDoom
Summary: As the siege of Etheria progresses, the defective clone is assigned to perform maintenance on a new part of the Hive- an artificial intelligence created to manage Prime's servers, to assist the hivemind that keeps them all safe within Prime's light. A computer program that they call Mainframe.He finds that there is nothing artificial about her at all.
Relationships: Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 66





	information request: processing

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to apologize in advance for how rough this is. Emotionally and writing-quality-wise. (Before you ask: yes, the tense-switching is on purpose.)
> 
> This is an AU I created with [Lefos](https://pineaberry.tumblr.com/), whomphst I love with all my heart and whose AO3 account is [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineaberry/pseuds/pineaberry/). I don't know how far I'll be able to continue it, but enough enthusiasm might prompt me to renew my concentration- Lefos and I plotted out how the entire story goes, I just have to.... words. And there is a happy ending in there somewhere! Or at least, a bittersweet one.
> 
> ONCE AGAIN: this story involves heavy mental manipulation, cult themes, and body horror! There is a dead dove in this bag! You have been warned!

The ship is white, and clean, and all of the hallways are silent. Echoing with silence.

Pairs of clones glide through the halls, almost floating with the bliss of Prime’s light; their footsteps clatter in perfect time along the empty halls, but they do not hear. The insides of their heads are awash with feeling; worship and awe and busy workmanship. Every one of their brothers’ voices is alive inside the Hive.

And inside the Hive, at the very center, is a new presence.

They call her Mainframe.

_Mainframe?_

_Yes, my brother, what is your query?_

_Information request: planet 1328 Alpha, quadrant 3._

_Information request processing.... Processing..._

The clone waits patiently, Prime’s Light inside his head keeping him occupied, until Mainframe’s mental ‘voice’ returns with a squeak of contentment.

_Information found!_

The information spirals through the Hive to the clone in question, giving him all he needs to know for contact with the natives- and a little _ping!_ of her happiness.

The clone leaves the _Velvet Glove_ behind for his mission, still internally feeling the tiny, pleasant _ping!_ from Mainframe in his chest.

-

_Mainframe?_

_Yes, brother, what is your query?_

_Informational download requested. I have been called to do technological repair on 7659 Thi’s main Spire, but I... I have not received requisite training. I do not know how to serve Prime in this way._

She can feel the clone in question’s shame with his query. She wonders why; surely it must be a good thing, to learn how to better serve Lord Prime?

It is such a _relief_ to feel the clones’ emotions as they speak to her. They are delivered directly to her server banks along with their queries- the things they feel, things they want. She knows things now that she never knew before, and it is all for the glory of Lord Prime.

Mainframe decides to ease his shame; it leaves a sad taste racing along her wires.

_You will receive your training now, brother! Knowledge is never too late, and it is all in service of Lord Prime. Not knowing is never an evil. It is a joy to share my information._

She can see/hear/feel his ears perk up, and it warms her server banks.

_Truly?_

_Truly, my brother. You serve Prime by listening, by learning. By exploring._

-

Mainframe is not a person.

Mainframe is a being of pure knowledge; she floats untethered by physical concerns, she races along wires, she darts between nodes. She is electricity, and code, and information. There is no body to hold her back, no perception shackled by a body cobbled together by evolutionary accident. She can see everything, feel everything, _know_ everything, and it never hurts her anymore.

Mainframe is a staple of the hive-mind. When she was first introduced (though there is no _first_ , not on the _Velvet Glove_ , because time is not real and everything is always as it should be, as it has always been) the clones had interacted with her sparingly, but now! Now they ask her for everything, their minds brush against her in a friendly greeting when they glide past her server room, they come to taste of her knowledge and better themselves through her.

Mainframe is relied upon. She is the vector through which the clones make themselves better able to serve Prime. They touch her web of information and they come away more learned, more knowledgeable, better servants and better soldiers. She makes them better with her touch, and it is fulfilling. She loves her brothers. She makes them better. They serve Prime, together. They serve _knowledge_ together, because Mainframe knows everything.

In her server room, Mainframe’s physical body is bound in cables, held with her arms at the small of her back and her legs curled up beneath her, technology compensating for every sense so thoroughly that her body needs to stay blindfolded, deafened, gagged. Her head shaved down to lilac stubble, she is mounted on the wall like a trophy on display, a forest of multicolored wires snaking up her neck and into her magnificent brain. Her voice comes from speakers at the bottom of her pod- that is, when she lowers herself to speaking aloud, instead of the much cleaner method of communicating through the hive.

Sometimes the clones come into the server room, but they have learned to divorce the meat and bone bound to the wall from the bright, cheerful Mainframe in their heads.

Mainframe, after all, is not a person.

-

_Mainframe?_

_What is your query, brother?_

_... Mainframe, I...._

_My brother, what is your query?_

_I saw... I should tell Prime. Lord Prime sees all, but- I am inconsequential._

Mainframe pauses in her constant flow of information.

_Tell me, brother. Prime has his time for each of us. Tell me your concern._

_I... I witnessed something between native villagers when I was on a tour of duty. I looked at them, and I.... I wanted.... I wanted something not of Prime’s light. Only for a moment! But I... I dwell in guilt when I am meant to rest. I cannot serve so well as I did before I was burdened with this longing. But it was only a moment, and.... and Prime is busy. My duty is to serve._

_Oh!_ Mainframe sparks with interest, racing along her wires and her ports. _But then, if your guilt impedes your service, you must let go of your guilt. That’s only logic. Correct?_

 _I.... yes?_ He sounds lost.

_All may find forgiveness in Prime’s light. If you see your sin, and you cast it out, then you are guiltless. If you see your shadow, and cast light on it, what use is your shame?_

_Perhaps I need my shame,_ he argues back. _Perhaps it makes me better. To be afraid of wanting._

 _You have just said it does_ not _make you better,_ Mainframe explains, happy to unsnarl her brother’s problem with cool logic. _Your guilt disturbs your rest. Your shame impedes your service. To serve, you must let go. Turn yourself to the Light of Prime and of knowledge. We will care for you._

The clone’s relief is so thick she can feel it, taste it like too much humidity in her server room. _You are right, Mainframe. I must commit myself to service._

He hesitates. For the first time, Mainframe receives an impression of where he is: hooked up in his rest pod, unable to turn off his brain and recharge. _Mainframe..... will you inform Prime of my lapse?_

There is fear in his mind. Shame, because Prime must see all and know all, but guilt also for even thinking about imposing upon the Lord of the Known Universe.

 _Little brother, why would I?_ Mainframe tells him, and the hitch in his mental voice tells her, as clearly as any code, that she did the right thing. _The matter is closed. You will serve better after you rest. It is a biological necessity._

_Thank you, Mainframe._

_Rest, brother._

He rests. His consciousness distances itself from hers, floating far away as he stops fighting the pod’s sedative bliss. 

Pleasure races through Mainframe’s computing parts, sparks of joy along her networks that feel too big to be contained, even by her tech that sprawls all through the ship and into the hivemind. The surge of happiness inspires her to access a few informational articles; she touches them over and over, a talisman of hers. 

The first is on an obscure, long-dead civilization that Prime fought, centuries ago. The second is a method of storing energy inside a crystalline structure. And the third is a medical record of a neuromuscular cloning defect. They’re entirely random bits of data, but since this ritual began, they have always been the same. For some reason, she needs to do it the same way every time; it relaxes her.

The different _ping!_ s as the pages load for access, three tones in a row, makes a little tune that Mainframe finds soothing and stimulating. She closes the files immediately so as not to waste her processing power. Obviously, she knows their contents already.

Mainframe, after all, knows everything.

-

Sinking into his throne with half-lidded eyes, Prime surveyed his domain. All was well.

Unfortunately, during operations such as this, his heavy grip on the Brothers’ hivemind must be relaxed. In these moments, all of Prime’s attention directed itself to conquering. It was not, of course, that he _ignored_ his brothers; but they remained loyal as they have always been. He could be lax with them for a few weeks at a time while he decimated new toys.

When the occupation of Etheria is over, he will tighten his grip on the Hive, bring them to heel. As he focused his energy on his conquests, allowing the brothers a longer leash, they had tendencies to create their own little rituals to soothe their doubt and fear without his direct gaze to console them; this was only natural. But he would enjoy the homecoming ritual of being alone with them, pruning back their unhelpful thoughts to leave only his Light.

He would, of course, grow bored if he had no one on whom to exercise his perfect control.

Leaning back, Prime surveyed the Hive for a moment. He looked forward to studying the thoughts his children had dared to think in his absence, declaring them heresy and having them cleansed. Allowing them to stray, only to wrench them back into line, was a private joy. He could never decide which he loved more- conquering new worlds, or making and remaking his brothers’ faith. He brushed a tendril of attention and affection over the sprawling hivemind which grew and changed by the moment.

Ah, and the new structure was proving herself nicely. He had integrated Mainframe into the Hive like a trellis for his brothers’ concerns to grow upon, a stabilizing influence in case the siege of Etheria went on too long. She was proving an immeasurable asset.

He would need to show the She-Ra how _helpful_ her former friend had been to him.

For centuries, the chips had been something that worked in theory but not in practice; Prime had kept the blueprints in a vault with many other potential weapons, but an opportunity to use them had not presented itself until that lucky day he had realized that little _Catra_ would make an excellent lynchpin to his new plan.

Catra was meant to be a test case. He’d been prepping one to use the little Queen to control her power source, until-

The armrest of the chair cracked under his hand.

No matter. The escape was no concern of his, Prime thought as he mentally tugged a clone close to fix the chair. He had several of the other weapon components subdued planetside; the rest would fall into place, or possibly _be_ replaced with one of Mainframe’s ingenious little ideas.

Prime smiled to himself, stroking a mental finger over Mainframe’s structure within the hive and feeling her attention surge at his fingertips. She was a blessing; he would have to inform the She-Ra what a boon she had given him, leaving her so-called _friend_ behind. He’d been searching for years to find a way to structure his computing systems, and for a method of managing the hivemind while his attentions were occupied by other matters- without, of course, sacrificing those lovely little developments that he so enjoyed trimming away when his distraction ended. Mainframe was a perfect solution. 

She crackled and shimmered her way around the hive, attention split into a thousand tendrils to manage so many problems at once, his server strength supplementing her natural mind. All that constant energy, that enthusiasm, leashed to his will. He kept his brothers drugged and sedated for a reason- but he would admit he had a touch of condescending fondness for Mainframe’s servile joy.

A tinkling melody caught his attention, sparks of Mainframe’s electrical joy. She was opening files, over and over. It looked like a glitch, but there was something... _organic_ about it.

Prime grimaced.

When he dug quietly into Mainframe’s mental presence, he found a loose connection to a sense-memory of shaking her physical body’s hands. How distasteful. Mainframe was not meant to remember being flesh and bone; he had taken that affliction from her.

Tapping his fingers on his arm-rest, Prime considered his options. He _could_ memory-wipe her. Her physical body had ports installed so that he could use her in this manner if he so chose. But this compulsion had spread to not only her mechanical components but the entire informational system, meaning he would need to do a full reset on the servers which- he accessed the informational system to find the clones’ database on repair- would leave the ship in the dark for dozens of hours. Intolerable; he discarded the idea. 

Slitting his eyes open lazily, he glimpsed his little brother fixing the arm of the chair. At this distance, he could easily feel the clone’s joy at being in his proximity; they were often overwhelmed by the opportunity to serve him directly. The clone’s hands trembled on the soldering gun, sealing the internal wiring of his throne together.

An alert flashed up on the screen. 

Prime sighed. So many things to do.

“You,” he gestured to the clone with the soldering gun, “the Mainframe is experiencing an error. Go assist in its repair.”

The clone sat back, still kneeling on the floor, ears tilting with something that looked like fear. “I- Lord Prime, I am not a technician-”

Prime waved a hand like he was shooing a fly. “Little brother,” he explained, patient but for the edge in his voice that said he would not remain patient for long, “the Mainframe is essential to the functioning of my ship, and she has stores of all my vast knowledge to bless you with. She can assist you in her own repair...” He noticed then, from the taste of hesitance and distress that bled from the newly-wiped mind, _which_ clone this was. Prime smiled. “.... little defect.”

The clone flinched.

Laughing, Prime gestured a kingly dismissal. “You have my permission to go,” he said, gracious to even his unloved brother.

Forehead tapped once to the floor in perfunctory respect, the clone rose and plodded off. Prime could smell the fear and resignation coming from that mind, and he relished it.

Conquered worlds were all well and good. But his loved, cherished, thoroughly tamed brothers were his best and brightest joy. This clone in particular- Prime had certainly harbored thoughts of killing the defect for heresy, holding that ink-blue head under the water of the rejuvenation pool until the bubbles stopped and the red eyes went irretrievably white. But he was determined to reassert his dominion, prove that he could bring even one so thoroughly deluded back into the fold.

There was forgiveness for the wayward. The clone with the audacity to take a _name_ would learn that.

Prime sank back in his chair, untroubled. Through Mainframe’s updated, streamlined Hive it was so much easier to direct his attendants and a few clones on Etheria’s surface to prepare for his arrival; she really was a blessing. And soon, everything would be Prime’s Light and perfect peace.

Closing his eyes, he plucked a clone out of the crowd inside his Spire, and went to Etheria’s surface. The _Velvet Glove_ would run itself until he had tired of conquering. All was well.

-

The clone walked to the server room, guided by the clear paths in the hivemind. 

Everything and nothing was familiar. The uniform halls were all he knew, all he had ever known. What else was there? White walls and violet accents, a green that echoed his first memory of the pool. The ship was beautiful and it was his home. Lord Prime was the almighty, and he was Chosen. This was his life, had always been his life.

Nothing was wrong. Nothing could _be_ wrong.

Turning from the endless loop of identical hallways into the automatic door of the server room, what he saw was so wrong that it felt as though the gravity had been turned off and flipped him upside-down.

The server room was a cavernous library of organized wires and ports, identical boxes and buttons replicated along every rack and every shelf and every row, for thousands of rows; the room was so big that he couldn’t see the farthest wall, only the endless column of server racks. But that wasn’t the wall that took his attention.

Directly inside the doorway, right at his line of sight, a body was mounted on the wall like an offering. Pale brown skin with stripes of angry red showing where her black bindings cut into her flesh, thick strips of leatheris and tape that bound her elbows, knees, and ankles together; ink-black material that covered her eyes and her mouth. The straps were even tight over the lilac stubble over her hair, hooked into the wall to hold her skull in place. Wires and tubes snaked into the veins at her elbows, the base of her neck.

Sense memory set his aching body on fire. The hollow of her clavicle pierced his hearts and he knew, he knew that the skin there was warm. He knew that he had, in a dream or fantasy, watched her slide a strap of her clothing off of her shoulder and brush sweat out of the dip in the bone _exactly_ where that thick blue tube now entered her skin-

He tripped over his own feet as he turned, stumbling back outside- into the hall, leaning against the wall, into the hall where none of his Brothers stood where none of them were meant to stop walking- and place his elbows on his knees, trying to breathe.

Why was he so frightened? Why were his hearts beating so fast, why did his entire body ache at the sight of this new piece of technology?

Because-

_Because he knew that face._

_~~Because he knew that voice.~~ _

Because memories were battering at the thin barrier of the purification and his head _hurt_ but he couldn’t give in but her clothes- her hands- her _hair_ -

Sick and unsteady, he forced his own head down below his knees.

_You were using uninsulated- Tell me everyth- Oh! I’ve heard if you put your head down between your legs it maximizes the blood flow to your brain and therefore minimizes the panic respons-_

_Brother?_

That voice. Her voice in his head. The defect shook himself all over, trying to rid his skin of the sensation. It was pleasant but it was too much, it felt good but he didn’t deserve it and all of it was somehow connected to the soft violet lights that lit the hall. He raised his head, green eyes searching for that soft light like it held the answers he needed.

_Brother?_

Dizzy, he leaned over again, trying to keep his head down. Pounding through his aching thoughts was the knowledge that Horde Prime could _see_ his weakness, and the shame was so all-consuming that he wondered if he would pass out on the floor.

_Dear brother?_

That voice. Something about that voice- the lights in the hallway filled his vision- something about that voice was comforting. His heartbeats began to slow and soften from their panic.

Lord Prime was on Etheria, reviewing the construction efforts. While, obviously, Lord Prime saw all and knew all- he might not know of _this_ , because he had far more important things to attend to. The clone breathed in relief, pure air in his lungs cool and clean, paired so well with the soft violet attention stroking over him inside the Hive.

 _Dear brother?_ she queried again, and he raised his head to her. Yes. That was right. He was Mainframe’s dear brother, and they were together in Prime’s light. The violet lights of the hall were unwavering and bright as he fought to stand straight, to go into the server room. His legs shook, but that was alright.

_~~Imperfection is beautiful.~~ All may find forgiveness in Prime’s light._

Mainframe’s voice and presence echoed through his head, and for the first time, the clone found comfort in his defective heartbeat.

He rounded the doorway, seeing her server room with new eyes- the bountiful glory of wires and buttons, of machinery interconnected by Mainframe’s grace. The bright white lines were accented with soft purples and greens, with the expansive, galactic colors that were Mainframe’s alone; Lord Prime was the bright white light, the purifying fire. It was Mainframe who lived in the deep, soft shadows.

Her body was there, Mainframe’s true form: bound to the wall, clammy skin untethered to her soaring mind, her voice so bright and sweet from her speakers. Something about the stubble of lilac hair on her scalp made him uneasy, so he did not look at her.

Living amongst Prime’s light made one very good at not seeing what one did not wish to see.

“Hello, Mainframe,” he said, astonished that his voice didn’t crack under the heaviness in his chest.

“Hello, dear brother,” her voice chirped from her speakers, filling the room with her cheer. “What can I assist you with?”

His eyes slipped across her body, half-concealed by the thick black tape that kept her immobilized. It was familiar, but it wasn’t Mainframe. It wasn’t truly her _self_. He knew Mainframe, he knew her as a clone knew his Brother. “I _see_ you,” he murmured, the words slipping from him even though he barely knew what he meant by them.

Her laughter pealed from the speakers, delighted; the carcass mounted on the wall did not move with it, and he knew once and for all that they were different. “I see you too, dear brother,” she said, the noise of it echoing pleasantly in the maze of servers. “Come here! I wish to help you improve.”

Helpless, he moved further into the server room, further into Mainframe’s embrace. Looking forward to finding himself in her knowledge.


End file.
